Tonight
by fangs-all-mine1123
Summary: Max buried her head in Fang chest, sighing deeply. "Don't go." Don't go? That changed everything. Fax. Post-Angel. [Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride. All rights reserved to James Patterson. No infringement or copyright intended.]
1. Chapter 1

**Tonight **

**A/N: So, this is a new idea I've been working on for about a week or so. I like it so far, but I'm not completely sure where I'm headed. Guess we'll figure it out together!**

**Warning: NOT a one-shot. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride. It all belongs to JP. **

**Summary: Max buried her head in Fang chest, sighing deeply. "Don't go." Don't go? That changed **_**everything**_**. Fax. Post-Angel.**

FANG

It was _not _stalking.

Fang had looked it up - the definition of stalking - just to convince himself that he had not sunk so low as to be called a Peeping Tom.

There were actually two definitions of stalking.

1. Stealthy pursuit; the act or process of stealthily following or trying to approach somebody or something

2. Act of steady harassment; the crime of harassing somebody with persistent, inappropriate, and unwanted attention.

See?

That wasn't Fang by a long shot.

He wasn't following anyone anywhere - he just knew where to go. It had nothing to do with trying to approach her, either. Just…to be there. Plus, he wasn't harassing anyone. And he definitely wasn't committing a crime…at least, not to is knowledge.

Honestly, the only reason he was doing it was because he was worried about her. He didn't trust that Dylan and the others could take care of Max. When he'd left her back in Paris, she'd been a mess. Angel was gone, and he had to make sure Max was okay…He couldn't lose anyone else…

It was still _his _job to make sure she wasn't a mess. Not Dylan's.

Plus, it gave him peace of mind. This way, he knew she was okay. That made him feel okay. Even if nothing was truly _okay_ anymore.

He was still with his gang. They were hotel hopping, spending sometimes weeks at a time at different hotels. Always researching, always working on Max's mission. Like he'd promised her. He'd told her they'd work on it, too. And they were.

But at night…after his gang went to sleep, Fang flew out to the flock's house. He didn't tell anyone where he was going. What was the use? None of them would understand. Plus, he was always back before they could see he'd been gone, anyways. It wasn't very far, considering he made sure his gang never went more than a few hours away from the flock's safe house. Then he'd sit in the tree outside Max's room and just…make sure she was okay.

Damn, he sounded like a Peeping Tom.

She was always sleeping, though. It wasn't like he _spied _on her.

Damn, now he sounded like some creeper who watched girls sleep.

Truthfully, he never did anything but sit in that tree and make sure she was alright. It wasn't his fault that no one in the flock was ever on watch during nights. Maybe then he wouldn't worry as much. Fang had _always _done watch. Frankly, he had horrible insomnia. Still never got a wink. He would stay up, sit on the roof, fly around the perimeter. It was easier for him, easier than trying to relax enough to sleep. Sleeping was hard. It meant closing your eyes, taking down your defenses, _opening up_. Nope. Not Fang. His nights of dreamless, peaceful sleep were rare.

Anyways, it wasn't Fang's fault. Fang was just doing what he felt he needed to do. He never thought this would happen.

It wasn't his fault there was a tree right outside Max's window. It wasn't his fault that she slept with that certain window open each night. And it absolutely wasn't his fault that Max was having a nightmare that particular night, as he sat outside her window.

At first he just watched her. She rolled onto her side. She was covered in a sheen of thin sweat, her eyebrows drawn together, her face holding the look of agony. She was panting.

Thus began his internal conflict. Everything in him was screaming _Go to her!_

But it…wasn't his place.

Then she moaned, a sound so full of sorrow and pain that Fang couldn't bear to listen to it anymore. Before he knew what he was doing, Fang had jumped out of the tree and swooped in Max's bedroom. He crossed the room in seconds and then laid down next to her shaking form and wrapped his arms tightly around her. He closed his eyes and kissed her head.

Then she stopped shaking.

First, Fang realized, _I just laid down in bed with Max. _Something he hadn't done since they went to Vegas. Something he'd really missed doing. He let himself relax a bit.

Then he realized, _I just laid down in bed with Max!_

He'd just crossed the line _big time_. That was bad. Very bad. That changed everything.

Before he could get up and leave, erasing the fact that he'd ever been there…

"Fang?"

He didn't know what to do, what to say. Max's hand moved up his chest, his neck, his cheek. He froze. She looked up into his eyes, confirming that it was, in fact, her ex-boyfriend.

Maybe she'd just let him leave without a word. Maybe she'd agree to not talk about it, to forget it happened. Maybe it wouldn't change everything, like Fang had thought.

Then she buried her head in his chest, sighing deeply. "Don't go."

Don't go?

Fuck.

That changed _everything_.

Fang was suddenly aware of everything in the room; Max's untidy dresser that was overflowing with clothes, the simple lamp on the table by her bed, the soft, cotton comforter that she was underneath and he was on top of, the lone picture of her and Angel tacked up with a thumbnail beside the door.

He was also aware of Max. Suddenly, his senses were working over time, his brain processing every movement, every breath, every sensation all at once. He felt her fingers curl into the front of his t-shirt, holding him close. Her felt her hot breath on his collar bone. He felt her soft hair tickling his nose. He could see, in the dimness of her room, the way her body curled against his, so perfectly fitting against him. He heard her slow even breathing, so different from her frantic panting during her nightmare. He could smell her scent, comforting and familiar.

"I miss her," he heard as she whispered the words into his neck.

No matter how fucked up it was, Fang had already made the mistake of crawling into bed with her. He couldn't push her away now. He tightened his arms around her waist, holding her. "Me too," he said softly.

"I miss us," Max added, her voice cracking dangerously on the _us _part. He wasn't sure if she meant Max and him, specifically, or the entire flock. He didn't know and he didn't ask. "Me too," he repeated.

"Stay with me."

And so it began.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:Thanks so much for the positive feedback! This one is a tad bit shorter. You'll start to notice a pattern soon: verrrrry short and always the same setting. Just something new I'm trying out. Please review!**

**Here we go!**

MAX

"Well? Are you coming in or what?"

She could practically feel Fang's surprise as she spoke to him. He'd thought she was asleep. She'd laid down for bed around eleven, but before she could coax herself into unconsciousness, she'd heard the sound of wings beating softly and something landing in the tree outside her room. Without peeking, she'd known. He was back.

She'd woken up that morning and he'd been gone. No trace that he'd been there at all the night before; no trace that he'd held her all night and spoken softly in her ear and rubbed her back until she fell asleep. Max had figured that would be the last time she saw him, that it was a one time thing. But obviously, since Fang was sitting in the tree outside her bedroom again tonight, she was wrong.

She heard his feet land on the soft carpet of her bedroom, and her heart started to race. She refused to open her eyes. She was already thinking a lot as it was, but if she looked at him and saw his body, his face, her mind would go to places she didn't want to see. This was not about emotions. _Not at all_.

This was about her health and her peace-of-mind.

Last night had been the best sleep she'd gotten in months. Ever since Fang left - the first time, mind you - she'd been having a hard time sleeping. Granted, she'd always had a hard time sinking into a deep sleep, but Max couldn't even relax enough to get halfway there anymore. It was like there was no escape; her dreams were as bad as her reality. Always filled with nightmares about Angel dying and Fang leaving and her failing at her mission…Max couldn't bear to sleep. It was almost better to suffer from exhaustion during the day.

Then Fang came back. Just for that night, just for a couple of hours. And he held her and made her feel safe. Made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she'd be okay. And she was out like a light after a few minutes.

The bed sunk with Fang's weight as he laid beside her. Max scooted over, offering him half of her bed. God, this was a new low. They were so awkward around each other that she was being _polite _to him.

He was behind her this time. His arms pushed around her small waist and hugged her to his chest. Max felt her muscles ache as they relaxed in his embrace. She was under the blanket and he was on top, just like the night before. It just felt safer that way. No temptation. Nothing risky.

"I didn't think…" she trailed off. She didn't think he'd come back.

He shushed her. "Go to sleep."

She didn't want to. She wanted to savor this. This…feeling. Of being safe. Of being held. She felt _good_, for the first time in a long time. Good.

Here, in Fang's arms in her bedroom after midnight, she didn't have to think about Angel's death. She didn't have to think about the others. About Dylan. About Fang. About Maya. About Jeb. About her mother. About Ella. About the mission. None of that mattered.

Instead, she could succumb to her senses. Breathe his scent and relish in the feeling of his arms holding her like she was his and she could just _not think_. It was perfect.

Still, she had to think about what was going to happen between them, now that he wasn't _gone _anymore. She hadn't told anyone that he'd slept in her room. In fact, when Iggy had asked her how she'd slept, and she'd responded, "Alright," she felt like she was lying to his face. She felt obligated to tell them. But she didn't.

Now she was paranoid that he'd known all along. She'd been so freaked that someone was going to walk into her room while Fang was there that she had _locked _her bedroom door. She'd never locked her door before. They'd lived their whole lives sleeping in a big pile on the forest floor or in caves, and now she had to lock her bedroom door?

She felt like she was doing something illegal.

But…Fang was there…

And suddenly, _seeing Fang for three hours at night_ seemed a whole fucking lot better than _not seeing Fang ever_.

He obviously wanted it, too, right? That's why he was there? Because he needed her?

That had to be why.

That was why.

Max sighed. Not a stressed sigh, like her last million sighs have been. No. A content sigh. A _maybe things will get better someday _sigh.

"No one knows I'm here," Fang said softly in her ear, making her shudder with delight. His voice was low and gravelly.

"Let's keep it that way," Max murmured. It was for the best, after all, if the others didn't know. If they did, then they'd all want to see him, and they'd all try to make him come home. They'd all think something was going on when that was totally not the case. They wouldn't understand. No.

Then they would scare him off for good.

Max mentally kicked herself, wondering when she'd become so freakin' soft. When she'd become so reliant on Fang and worried about what he thought.

He'd ruined her. Fucked her up and now look at her. She could barely think for herself without worrying about Fang and what he thought about her. It used to be that she didn't care what anyone thought, Especially not Fang. Fang could've either agreed or learned to agree. Now, it was like he was the puppet master and she was the puppet. Minus all the strings and shit.

God. She didn't even care anymore. She was going to use him to get better sleep and that was it. No emotions. No strings.

Yeah. Right.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews. There is a lot of self-exploration and character development in these chapters. Thanks for sticking with me!**

FANG

"Maya knows I'm here," Fang said the next time as he sat down on Max's bed and kicked off his boots.

Max raised an eyebrow, pulling back her covers. Fang hesitated. They hadn't both slept under the covers yet. He usually slept on top.

She rolled her eyes, as if reading his mind. "It's cold, hurry up."

Fang slid into bed next to her, taking up his position of holding her against him. She was facing him this time. It was different, though, because this time there was no thick comforter between them. They were _close_. The small TV in the corner of her room was on, broadcasting softly in the background. It was a stand up comedian.

Maya had caught him sneaking out of the motel room they'd gotten. She'd automatically known where he was going, as if a sixth sense.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" she'd asked.

Fang had just looked at her. No. He _wasn't _sure. He knew it was probably going to get him into a whole bunch of trouble.

But he didn't care.

"Guess I'll keep watch, then," Maya had said finally. And that had been that.

"Maya," Max said, her voice full of something Fang hadn't ever heard before. Then she turned, facing away from him, but he kept his arms around her stomach.

"Let's play a game," Max said.

No. Fang had to say no. This was all about Max getting sleep and Fang knowing she was okay. He was there to sleep, not to talk to her and become her best friend again. This couldn't be more than sleeping. He wouldn't be able to take it.

"Sure."

"I ask a question, you answer, then you ask and I answer."

Fang could already tell this would be bad.

"Shoot," he said in her ear.

"Have you kissed Maya?" she asked.

"No," Fang answered immediately. Then he asked, "Have you kissed Dylan?"

Max began picking at a loose string on her pillow by her head. "Yes."

Fang felt like leaving. He figured that was why Max was so nervous, her voice so shaky. She knew what that answer would do to him. He didn't move. He tried not to think about Dylan and Max. About them being together. About them being in love.

"Does that bother you?"

Fang took a while to answer, "What do you think?"

"You have to answer before you get to ask a question," Max quipped.

"Max, go to sleep."

"Does it bother you?" Max insisted. "Seriously. Does it?"

"Yes, okay?" he hissed. He unwrapped his arms from around her and moved to lay on his back, making sure they weren't touching. Why, if she and Dylan were together, was he the one laying in her bed?

Max went quiet.

Fang had known the game was a stupid idea. It would've been best if they'd kept it strictly about sleep.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Are you going to move to Germany?" Fang asked steely. That question was kind of a cover for what he really wanted to ask, which was, _Are you going to have kids with Dylan, like Hans and Jeb wanted?_

"Fuck you, Fang," Max mumbled. When he said nothing, just let his question hang in the air, unanswered, Max sat up quickly, flipping her head to the side to stare down at him. "What kind of person do you think I am?" she demanded, her voice hurt.

"You have to answer before you get to ask a question," Fang replied monotonously.

"No, I'm not," she said angrily. "I can't believe you'd think that. After everything we've been through, you think I'd be able to do that?"

Fang opened his mouth, then closed it again. Really, what was he to think? She was kissing Dylan! It'd only taken Dylan a couple _weeks _to get Max to kiss him…It'd taken Fang…forever. Sooner or later, she and Dylan would be shacking up in Germany, just like Gunther-Hagen wanted. It was only a matter of time, right?

Fang sat up, too, and swung his legs off her bed. He reached down for his boots.

"This was a mistake," Fang said. He didn't only mean the game. The secret meetings. The sleeping in the same bed. The talking. It had been so stupid. Now they were in a worse place than before. Now he would never be able to get that thought of Max and Dylan out of his head.

"Fang, wait," Max said. She stood up, too, in her tank top and shorts. God. And she'd said it was cold. No wonder. Fang forced himself not to look at her legs, or he'd lose it completely.

"You just had to play that damn game," he said. Max looked up at him guilty. "You thought I was with Maya."

Max looked down at her feet.

"You should have just _asked_," he said. "Instead, what did you get out of that game, Max?"

"I had to know," she said pleadingly.

Fang scoffed and turned, about to leave.

"Fang, you…you don't know what it's like, thinking you've been dumped for your _clone_."

"No," Fang said. "But that sounds better than being dumped for someone completely fucking different."

If Fang had been with Maya, at least Max would have known that he still wanted her. He couldn't want Maya, physically, without liking Max. But Max was with Dylan now, who was the complete opposite of Fang. Which meant Max didn't want Fang at all. That thought pretty much killed him inside.

"I didn't _dump _you," Max spat. "If I recall, you _left _me."

"I had to! Everything was falling apart!" Fang hissed under his breath, careful not to raise his voice. Max and Fang had had a lot of practice with whisper-arguing in the past.

"Look at everything now, Fang! Everything is _worse_. Angel is dead. We're split up, the entire flock wants to just give up, and I…"

Fang shook his head, looking past Max and out the window. He wanted to go back in time, all the way back to that fateful day at their E shaped house in Colorado. He'd do anything to make sure Angel didn't get kidnapped that day. Anything in the world.

But would that even change their fate? Or would they still eventually end up here, like this, broken and separated? Was it fate that they were split up? Or was it just his bad luck?

"I'm sorry," Max said softly. "I know we can't be fixed. Okay? I know. Just…please…"

Fang looked at her. Standing there, in front of him, waiting for him to leave again. He could see it in her eyes.

But he could also see a small spark of hope in her eyes that maybe, just maybe, he'd stay. Maybe she was wrong and they _could _be fixed. Gradually. They'd never be perfect again, but they could try.

So he stayed.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Here we go!**

MAX

"I swear I saw her today," Max admitted under her breath. She had to say it. It'd been on her mind all day.

Since their meltdown five nights ago, they hadn't spoken. Fang had showed up, like clockwork every evening around ten, and he'd laid down beside her and she hadn't said a word. She'd come close to losing him again with her questions. She wouldn't do it again. It was too risky. Although, Max had an inkling that it hadn't been the _questions _that had thrown him off but the answers she'd given. About kissing Dylan. That must've really hit him. Like, _oh, shit, she's not sitting around waiting for me to come home_.

Except for the fact that she _was_. Hell, she sat up each night waiting for him to sneak into her bedroom and hold her. What did that say about her? Really?

Anyways, they hadn't spoken for five days. She hadn't had much to say, not much that mattered. Until today. She'd seen Angel - she knew it had been her. Her blonde curls bouncing behind her, her short skinny figure…it was _her_.

She'd gone out grocery shopping with Iggy. And when she'd seen Angel, she had gasped and stopped what she was doing. Iggy had asked her what was wrong. Max couldn't answer him. In a flash, her little girl was there and gone. She'd raked the crowd with her eyes, but…Angel was gone.

Gone, gone, gone.

"Max," Fang murmured softly. It was the first time she'd heard his voice in days, she realized. Something about it calmed her a bit.

Max turned her face into her pillow, taking deep breaths. She felt hot tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. "I can't help it."

The thing was, Max wasn't supposed to let anyone else die for her mission. Jeb had said that Max was meant to save the world. Not the others. Which meant it was Max who was supposed to die a martyr for the cause, not Angel. No matter how messed up Angel was, Max still loved her. And now she was gone, and it was Max's fault.

"Fang…"

He didn't answer, but she knew he was listening. She could tell by his body language that he was awake and attentive. She took a deep breath.

"Do you believe in God?"

Max and Fang had talked about it before. Often, even. Especially when bad things would happen. His answer was always the same.

"It's a nice enough idea," Fang would say, "but it's hard to believe in God after what we've gone through."

He always said that. Always. And Max had always agreed with him.

But tonight, he said, "No."

And she couldn't believe that. Not now that Angel was dead. If Angel was dead and there was no God, then did that mean there was no redemption? No life after death? Not even for little girls with curly blonde hair and big blue eyes?

Okay, so Angel hadn't been the most innocent seven year old…but her name was _Angel_. If anyone got to go to Heaven, it'd be her, right? Right?

The thought of Angel's life being over at seven was too hard to handle. Then, to top it all off, now Fang was saying Angel would not have eternal peace?

"I think I do," Max whispered. "Believe in God, I mean."

"Why?" he asked, sounding like he couldn't help himself.

"Because…Angel had to have gone somewhere, right? She has to be in Heaven, Fang."

"I don't know, Max."

"So, what do you think?"

"Honestly?"

"Yeah."

"I think that if there's a God, he wouldn't have ever put a seven year old girl through the shit she went through. Or the others. Or you, or me. It's pretty messed up, don't you think?"

"Mom's Catholic," Max blurted. "She says that God works in mysterious ways."

She wouldn't say it, but her mother had actually said that when Fang had left. The first time, of course.

"Yeah," Fang sighed, sounding tired. "Pretty damn mysterious."

"Do you ever think about dying, Fang?"

Fang's arms were tight around her, which made her feel safe about confronting that topic. It scared the shit out of her. Dying meant leaving her family, meant confronting the unknown. Meant finding out herself if there was an afterlife or not - and then finding out whether or not she was headed up or down.

Fang said, "Done it once, haven't I?"

Max turned in his embrace, looking up into his eyes. She'd forgotten about that…God, what a horrible day. She remembered how she'd felt, staring down at his cold body… Max shivered. She'd never been more desperate than that moment when she jabbed an adrenaline needle into his heart.

"What was it like?"

"Like sleeping," Fang murmured, his eyes closed. He looked tired and peaceful at the same time, and she wondered if he was remembering his brush with death.

"Do you think that's how Angel felt?" Max asked weakly. "Like she was sleeping?"

"I hope so," he said quietly, so quietly she barely heard the words. He rested his chin on her head. "I hope so."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Again, thank you guys. The feedback is amazing and totally flattering. You guys are awesome. **

FANG

It was storming.

Fang was a bit worried about the storms; he felt like that made it riskier for him to be there. He remembered when the weather would get really bad, and Angel would run into Max's room to sleep…

Well, maybe he didn't have to worry so much. But he still did. And, to make matters worse, he had to take a leak. Bad.

He ignored it for a while. Max had been exhausted when Fang had ducked into her bedroom window. She'd been half asleep when he laid down beside her, and anything she tried to say came out quiet and jumbled. She must've had a hard day. Fang hadn't wanted to keep her up.

But, at the same time, she refused to fully go to sleep. He'd been trying to get her to relax long enough to pass out, rubbing her back and humming in her ear and such, but none of it was working. Max was still awake when Fang finally couldn't take it anymore.

He was in the middle of humming one of her favorite songs when he stopped abruptly and said, "I gotta pee."

That seemed to wake her up a bit, though she didn't open her eyes.

"Don't get caught. Be really hard to 'splain why you're pissin' in our house at two in the mornin'."

Fang smirked at the way she slurred her words in her state of exhaustion and stood up. When he got to her door, he realized with a start that she had locked it. For some reason that set something off in his head. Like, _something isn't right here_. He turned around.

"You locked your door," he stated.

"Hmmm?"

"You locked your door."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Max rubbed her eyes, levering herself up on her elbows. "'Cause…I don't know. I don't want anyone walkin' in."

For some reason, Fang felt…wrong. Why was he doing this? Why was he coming to sleep in her bed every night?

He'd tried to tell himself that it was just to make sure she was okay, that it was just to make sure she got some sleep, but he knew deep down that he had his own, selfish reasons. He _wanted _to be there to hold her every night. He _needed _it. He couldn't allow anyone else to do it but him.

There had to be a reason why they were doing it. Why he was sneaking in, why she was letting him. There was a reason. There had to be.

It wasn't like they were doing anything, but Max still locked the door. Still was afraid they'd get caught. As if they were foolin' around or something. And that just didn't sit right with him.

They weren't telling anyone that this was going on. They were doing it in secret. They were sleeping together - in the nonsexual sense - in secret.

But why did it all have to be _secret_?

"Don't over think it," Max said, sobering up a bit at the look on his face. "I just don't want this to be complicated."

Well, too late. It already was complicated. They were both keeping secrets from the groups, they were locking the friggen door, they were attached but not attached. They were using each other - but for what? It wasn't just about sleep anymore. They talked a lot, and they laid together in bed _without _sleeping. What was that even called?

Not…cuddling…

It was too complicated for Fang to bear. He couldn't believe he'd started this. Now what were they supposed to do? Do this forever and never tell anyone? Would the ever be able to sleep alone - or with someone else - again?

Did he ever want to?

…

"But it is complicated," Fang said, scratching his head. "Right?"

Max shrugged. "Okay. I don't want it to be…more complicated."

"Think about it," Fang pressed. "Why do we do this?"

Max stared at him.

"Why do I sneak into your bedroom every night and lay with you? Why?"

"I don't know," Max whispered. She looked across the room, staring at nothing. Just trying not to make eye contact with Fang

"You do," Fang insisted. "Think about it-"

"I don't want to think about it!" Max snapped. "I'm going to sleep. Leave, if you're so damn uncomfortable with staying." With that, she flopped down onto her bed on her stomach.

Fang turned and walked out of her room and to the bathroom. Then he came back and laid in her bed. Max was already asleep, laying on her stomach. Fang laid down and pulled her so her head was on his chest. She readjusted on top of him, sighing in content.

Fang knew why she didn't want to think about it.

If she had thought about it, she would've realized.

They did it because they needed to. Because they missed each other. Because they loved each other.

But they couldn't love each other anymore, so they slept in the same bed at night then acted as if nothing was different during the day. She'd go on kissing Dylan, and he'd go on staring at Maya when she wasn't watching, and they'd never fix it. They'd just spend the night together in Max's bedroom, with the door locked.

How. Fucked. Up.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Why do I keep updating? What is goin' on? **

**This one is really short. Sorry. I could've tried to put filler in there but honestly I just wasn't feelin' the need. Enjoy.**

MAX

She dreamed that Dylan and Angel were zombies.

It was very gruesome, what with the rotting body parts and boils on their skin and all. Even she thought it was real. Her mental imagery was superb.

Unfortunately, her mental imagery was _still _superb when Zombie Dylan ripped Fang to shreds and Zombie Angel tried to attack Max.

Max woke with a start as Zombie Angel came at her with ragged claws and sharp teeth. She gasped awake, covered in a sheen of sweat and panting. Immediately, she tensed, feeling the other presence in her bed. Then she relaxed into Fang.

"It's okay," Fang breathed, his face buried in her neck. "You're okay. It was just a dream."

He kept murmuring soft reassurances in her ear until her heart beat slowed. She let Fang's warmth sink into her, calm her heart and her tense muscles.

Max was on her back, Fang on his stomach beside her. One of his arms was across her abdomen, his fingers lightly drawing patterns on her hip.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked after a moment.

Max shook her head. She didn't. She wanted to forget about it.

"Will you tell me a story?" Max whispered.

She turned her head toward his and looked at him through one eye, only to see him looking at her through one eye, too.

"No," he said quietly.

Max sighed. "Then tell me what you did today," she said softly.

Fang closed his eyes. His hand on hip stopped moving and just rested there.

"Researched the One Light," Fang said. "It's weird. Like his little clan came out of nowhere, you know?"

Max nodded, even though his eyes were closed. She knew he'd felt it.

"You researched all day?" Max whispered.

"The others helped," Fang said. "We found nothing but bullshit the media put out about how perfect the Doomsday Group is and how wonderful and crap."

Max didn't want to think about it. She'd spent all day thinking about it, too, and now that was the last thing she wanted to do. She didn't understand anything she was finding on the internet about the mission, and all of it was crazy lies anyways. Everyone who felt like talking about the One Light was already entranced by his disturbing messages. More and more people were becoming apart of the Doomsday Group every day.

"You guys should do something fun," Max murmured. "Stop focusing just on the mission, you know?"

"The more we focus now, the faster it'll be over," Fang finally answered.

That made Max think.

What was going to happen to them, once this was all over? What did the end mean for the flock? For Max and Fang? If there was no threat, Fang didn't have to stay away…right?

Who was she kidding? It would never be over. They had too many enemies for it to ever completely end. There would always be someone hunting them, always be And even if it did, the flock was so broken already…How could they ever be the same?

Especially without Angel.

"What's so great about it being over?" Max murmured.

As far as she was concerned, her mission being over meant one thing: Nothing left for her to do. Her mission had become her life. She could never see herself being a normal kid after it was all over. Who was she if she wasn't trying to save the world? Who was Maximum Ride without a mission? No one. She would be nothing without her mission. She would have no purpose. She would have no job. It seemed like a lose-lose situation to Max.

Fang sighed. "Justice."

Max hadn't thought about justice once. She'd only thought about the fact that she wouldn't be needed anymore. Was it about making things right, or about doing what she was told?

Max felt sick as it hit her. A sudden realization that made her _hate _herself. More.

She wasn't doing this for _justice_. She was doing it because she _had _to.

And what did that say about her?

"Go back to sleep," Fang said finally. He must've known that something in their conversation had struck a cord. Now she was thinking way too much.

"Okay," she whispered, pushing the thought of justice and selfishness and failure out of her mind. That topic was much easier to confront in the daytime. Speaking of scary topics…"Watch out for zombies."

Max was rewarded with the feeling of Fang's smile against her shoulder. "Sure, Max."

"Goodnight, Fang."

"Night."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Here's chapter….whatever! AGAIN SUPER SHORT.**

FANG

Fang was about to land on Max's windowsill when he saw Iggy's figure next to Max's bed. Quickly and silently, Fang landed on the branch outside her window, careful not to make a sound.

"You know you can tell me, right?" Iggy's voice was soft and gentle.

"Iggy. I already told you."

"Max, I know you're lying. I _know_."

Max's face was flushed bright red, her eyes angry. "I'm _not _sleeping with Dylan."

"Maybe not _yet_-"

Max hit him, hard, across the cheek. "Get out."

"If not him, then who do you talk to every night?" Iggy demanded.

"Myself!" Max hissed, getting flustered. "It wouldn't be the first time! If you haven't noticed, I'm a little messed up in the head. Excuse me if I talk to myself." She pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She added sarcastically, "Honestly. If I was sleeping with anyone, do you really think there would be a lot of _talking _going on?"

"Max…"

"Go to sleep, Iggy. I don't want to have this conversation with you. If you don't believe me, go sleep in Dylan's room. You'll know if he gets up."

"I'll just sleep in here, then," Iggy said stubbornly.

Max glanced out the window at Fang, biting her lip. Fang wondered which was more important to her. Being honest with Iggy or sleeping with Fang. "Ig."

"What's going on, Max?"

Max was still staring at Fang, her eyes locked with his. He could almost hear the internal conflict in her mind. _Tell him? Lie? _

Fang tried to silently tell her to keep her mouth shut.

"I…I've been talking to Fang," Max admitted, sounding guilty.

Obviously, he needed to work on his silent-message-sending.

Fang held in a groan. Whatever happened to _don't tell anyone_?

"Like, on the phone?"

After a second, Max said, "We're just talking. Nothing else is going on. Not with him. Not with Dylan."

Fang noticed the way Max didn't directly answer Iggy's question. He sighed in relief. At least she hadn't said he was coming over. Iggy definitely wouldn't have believed her then.

Fang also noticed how she said nothing was going on with him. He wondered if she really believed that. Then he wondered if _he _believed it.

"They aren't going to give up," Iggy said finally. Fang knew he was talking about Jeb and Gunther-Hagen, and their plan for Max and Dylan. "I'm just trying to look out for you."

"I know," Max mumbled.

"We both know you aren't at 100% right now," Iggy continued.

Max began to protest, but Iggy cut her off. "None of us are. But I don't want you to let them control you."

"Don't you know who you're talking to?" Max said, trying to sound tough.

Iggy smiled lightly. Fang could tell that he wanted to believe her tough act. Hell, Fang wanted to believe it.

But the truth was slowly becoming obvious to Fang. She wasn't tough right now. She wasn't strong. She'd been torn down and tossed around and her life sucked so bad that she was a hot mess. Could barely get through the day without crying - though recently, she'd been holding in the tears until night time, and Fang would hold her together while she sobbed her eyes out.

It would take a lot for Max to get back to being _Max_. Honestly, Fang wasn't sure what exactly. But he knew it was going to be hard for her. It was hard for all of them.

But _what was he supposed to do_?

He was already crossing the line. Frankly, he'd crossed the line coming into her bedroom _once_. But he'd also done it, like, ten more times after that. So far. And she was still a mess. She was still weak.

It scared the hell out of him to see her that way. To see her cry every night. To see the way she try to block everything out. To see how numb she was. _All the time_.

Max was always the one to hold everything together. The one who would always, always keep on keepin' on.

Now, she was falling apart.

That was why he did it, Fang figured. He snuck into her bedroom every night and laid in her bed with her just so he could hold her together while she fell apart. Because he knew Max. And he knew one thing would never change.

He was the only one she would ever fall apart in front of. Ever.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I messed up! **

**I was going through, checking my chapters, because I **_**knew **_**the kissing chapter was supposed to be chapter nine, not eight. **

**AND GUESS WHAT I SKIPPED A CHAPTER. **

**I know. I hate myself, too. So, here's the right one, which comes BEFORE their kiss. It's short but important, plus it keeps the alternating Max/Fang POV pattern. I'M SORRY! **

**PLEASE READ. **

MAX

"You left your socks," she told him quietly as he came in the window.

"I know," Fang mumbled. "Forgot to grab 'em. Gazzy was pounding your door in. What was he doing up at four in the morning, anyways?"

Max sighed. Fang laid down and curled his body around hers, one of his wings laying over the both of them. He probably already knew what Gazzy had been up about, but she'd tell him anyways.

"He had a bad dream," Max whispered. "One we've all had, I'm sure."

One about Angel.

The night before, Gazzy had tried to come into Max's room, but the door had been locked. Fang had rushed out of her window and Max had let in the Gasman. He fell into her, sobbing and hugging her waist tight.

"She was there, Max. It was so real," he had cried.

Max had lifted the eight year old up into her arms like he was a baby and carried him to her bed. He'd curled up against her side as she smoothed his messy blonde hair and tried not to cry herself as he mumbled, "It isn't fair…not fair…"

Max's throat was thick just thinking about it.

"And then, as if that wasn't bad enough," Max continued, "Nudge had a mental breakdown at breakfast."

"About?"

"Everything." Max rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. Fang's arm and wing were still laying across her body. "She's been trying to act normal ever since we got back from Paris. I guess she just…broke."

Fang closed his eyes and said nothing.

"That's the thing with caring about people," Max mumbled, almost to herself. "Makes you weak. Makes you suffer."

Fang opened one of his eyes to stare at her. "What do you mean?"

"You take care of someone their entire life. You grow up with them, you spend every day with them, and eventually it all falls apart. They leave, they die, something happens and it's over."

"Not always."

"Yes, always," Max insisted quietly. "You think if I hadn't taken care of Angel her whole life, I still wouldn't be able to go a day without crying?"

"You're sick," Fang said, meaning it as an insult. Max just thought of it as a fact at this point. "You're telling me you'd rather cut off all ties with everyone you love, remove all of your feelings, because you think that'll make it better? You think life will be more fulfilling?"

"I didn't say that," Max whispered. "I said there would be less pain."

"A person dies and it's sad," Fang said sternly, as if teaching her a lesson. "Whether you know them or not. A person gets blown up in an accident and it's still sad, whether you loved them or not."

"It was _not _an accident," Max choked, her eyes blurring red with anger. "They planted _bombs_. It wasn't an accident that the entire city blow up. That was the plan all along. We were stupid to think we could stop it. It was a mistake that I let Angel go down there."

"Don't blame yourself," Fang said. "I should've made sure she was out before me."

Max shook her head. It was her fault. She could've told Angel not to do it. Sure, she wouldn't have been happy about it, but that was Max's _job_. She was supposed to make decisions that saved lives, not destroyed them. She was supposed to be the hero, not the villain.

"You can't change what happened," Fang said softly.

Max turned onto her side, facing him, and pressed her face into his chest, willing herself not to cry tonight.

"I know," she moaned. "But I wish I could."

**A/N: Thanks! Sorry! ):**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I like this one. **

FANG

Fang had known this time would be different. He'd felt it before he even landed on her windowsill.

When he ducked into Max's bedroom around ten, she wasn't in there. He sighed, kicking out of his shoes. He didn't know where she was, but he sure as hell wasn't going to go looking for her. He wouldn't risk getting caught. He sat on the edge of her bed, still as a statue.

Then her door burst open and there she was. She was wearing something different, tonight - one of Fang's old shirts. She'd always slept in his stuff, ever since…forever. They'd always grown out of their clothes really fast as kids, and so he'd give his shirts to her since she liked how baggy they were.

But something about seeing her in his shirt now felt _different_.

His black shirt was long on her, reaching down to her mid-thigh, and if she was wearing shorts, he couldn't tell. It was one of those mysteries that made him insanely curious to find out. Her hair was held back messily in a ponytail. Her eyes were red. Her face was awash with tears.

"Max, what-"

She choked out another sob as she shut her door behind her and flipped the lock. In her other hand was something pink. She let it fall to the ground.

All he knew was that it was Angel's. He didn't have time to notice anything else because then Max was stumbling toward him, and his arms were open on instinct. Max fell clumsily into him and her lips landed on his, almost as if on accident. He couldn't tell if it had been or not.

He didn't pull away. Couldn't. His arms tightened around her like a vise and his lips…

At first it was tentative. As if neither of them realized what they were doing. It was as simple as breathing. Fang's one hand cupped her neck as the other held the small of her back. She was in his lap, her mouth leaving slow, short kisses on his. She pushed his jacket off, which caused him to move his arms from around her, but only for a second.

It soon became more intense. Max straddled his lap, holding his face as she kissed him, her lips moving against his so heatedly neither of them could think. It was an intricate dance between the two of them. Sometimes their lips would catch, sometimes they'd just sit, their lips centimeters away, breathing heavily against each other. Neither one opened their eyes once.

He was kissing Max. He shouldn't have been, but oh, God…he was. And it wasn't just one kiss. It was a lot of kisses. Never-ending. Incredible. Wrong. _Perfect_.

He rolled her onto her back. Her legs wrapped around him without a second thought, her strong muscles pulling him down against her. The shirt of his had ridden up to her bellybutton and he finally found out whether or not she was wearing shorts. Yes, she was - short, short, _short _shorts.

He groaned, his lips smashing against her mouth with a newfound vigor. She tugged on his hair, tightening her legs around him. Fang's lips moved from her mouth to her jaw, planting wet kisses there, making her arch her back.

"Fang," she gasped, out of breath.

"Max, what the fuck are you doing to me?" he murmured against her neck, moving up to her lips to kiss her deeply again. He'd never felt like this before. Sure, he'd wanted her in the past, but he'd never _needed _her, never had to have her so intensely. He'd never held her so hard, as if she would be ripped away. He'd never kissed her so desperately.

Max's fingers felt up his chest until they came across something under his shirt by his collarbone. She pulled it out of his collar. It was the necklace Angel had made him for their birthday - the one that matched Max's. She pulled hers out, too, her eyes shining.

"Fang, please."

_Please what?_ he thought.

Then he looked at her. Like, really looked at her. She was still crying, tears streaming down her cheeks like a waterfall. Her legs were tight around his waist, her hands pulling his shoulders down.

What was he _doing_? Kissing her like that when she was such a mess? Kissing her _at all_? She was with Dylan. Not him. He had messed up royally this time.

How could he have taken advantage of her like that?

He carefully unwrapped her legs from around him, feeling a new sense of self-loathing. Not only at the fact that he completely lost all control, but also due to the fact that he'd probably screwed everything up. God.

When he'd snuck into her room, at least he'd had an excuse. It was for her health. It was so she didn't pass out from exhaustion during the day. It was for her well-being.

What was his excuse for kissing her? Kissing her like _that_?

Nothing. There was no excuse. That kiss was full of a million emotions that they couldn't have for each other. Not anymore. Not now.

He rolled to the side, sitting next to her. He wiped her eyes as she sniffled. He straightened her shirt and pulled the covers up to her chin.

"Fang…"

God. She needed to stop saying his name.

He laid down next to her on top of the blanket, keeping his distance. Or, trying. But she rolled over and her head collided with his chest. He put his head on her pillow, kicking himself for being such a moron.

"I'm sorry."

Sorry couldn't fix it, though. Fang knew that. He couldn't just apologize for attacking her lips like that. For treating her like his girlfriend. For touching her like she was _his_. For messing everything up.

Max slowly calmed down, her tears giving way to constant sniffles. Fang looked around the room for tissues and came up empty handed.

She leaned over and grabbed a few tissues from a drawer in the small table by her bed. She blew her nose, then laid down on her back under the covers. He was still on top of her comforter. She drew in a few slow, shaky breaths.

She closed her eyes, chewing on her lip for a second. Then, she rolled onto her side, facing away from him, and whispered, "That never happened."

**A/N: Review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Here's chapter ten! I think three more after this. Thanks for all the reviews! **

MAX

It was almost one.

She had five hours or so before she had to plaster on a smile for the others and look like she was invincible Max.

And Fang still hadn't shown.

Max sat on her bed. In the same spot where she'd been curled up for the past two hours. Her legs were pulled up to her chest and her forehead was resting on her knees, her eyes closed tight. Maybe if she curled up small enough she'd disappear. Maybe she'd be able to forget.

They'd agreed that it had never happened, right? Max thought about the night before almost desperately. She'd said, "That never happened." He had said nothing. But he wouldn't give up on her that easily, would he? He wouldn't let that ruin everything. He couldn't.

Max hadn't been thinking. Why the hell hadn't she been _thinking_? Where had her brain been last night?

It felt like a dream. Fuzzy and incomplete in her mind. She remembered crying - about what, who the hell knew anymore. Then she remembered being pressed against him completely, making her shiver, making her gasp. His lips against hers, a feeling she hadn't felt in forever.

She didn't remember making the decision to kiss him. She didn't remember making the first move. But she must've. It must've been _her_.

Because here she was, sitting in her room, waiting for him.

And where was Fang?

It was all his fault, she decided. He was the one who'd started it. He was the one who had shown up in her room randomly. One night, she'd been getting on fine without him, and the next, he was there, bringing up old feelings and old comforts and making her _need _him again. Why the fuck did he do that to her?

By one thirty, Max's confusion and hurt turned into pure anger. She stood up and slammed her window shut, relaying the message to him, wherever he was, that he wasn't welcome in her room anymore.

Then she flopped down onto her bed and tried to control herself. She took a deep breath into her pillow.

"Fuck."

Her bed _smelled _like him.

She stood up again. Ripped her pillow cases off her pillows. Yanked roughly at the sheets, threw the comforter, undressed the bed until it was only the naked mattress and her pillows. She looked at the pile of bedding on her floor and pushed her hair back from her face, taking slow, deep breaths. She was going to have an anxiety attack if she didn't calm down.

What had she done?

What had they done?

OhhhhGodddddd….

Max couldn't think about it. She needed to sleep, needed to escape. If only for a little while. She _needed _to _try_. With or without Fang, she was going to have to do it. For the flock. For the world. She had to stay strong. She hated Fang with everything in her being for doing that to her - for setting her up to be hurt again. She was so vulnerable, you know, now that Angel was dead and he was gone. And he took advantage of that. Ruined her. Again. Crushed her. _Again_.

After a moment of contemplation, she decided. She stepped over the pile of bedding on the ground and walked out of her bedroom. The entire walk felt like a walk of shame. Her mind was screaming at her to go back to her room. She continued down the hall, passing doors until she was standing right in front of the one she wanted. The one she _needed_.

When Max pushed opened the door, she saw him. He looked peaceful. Maybe some of that could rub off on her.

Any other time, she wouldn't have even thought about doing this.

But this was not any other time.

She didn't say anything to him. He woke up the instant she crawled into bed next to him and turned her face into his chest, curling up under his warm blankets which didn't smell like Fang at all.

Just Dylan.

It felt like Dylan. It smelled like Dylan. It was so, so different, and so _not _Fang…

Maybe that was better, anyways.

**A/N: Review for another chapter tomorrow!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Eek! **

**If you guys are wondering whether she and Dylan will end up together, might I point you towards the two main characters of this story? Thanks.**

**Amazing reviews, guys! **

**Read on!**

FANG

Her window was closed again, but this time she was actually in her room.

Max must've seen his shadow splay across her room or something, because in seconds she had opened the window and leaned out, staring at him.

"Where were you?"

She didn't sound upset. She didn't really sound anything. Just numb. Monotone. And that was the worst. He would've rather she was furious or hurt instead of _nothing_.

"I was here," Fang mumbled. He knew she was talking about last night. "Where were you?"

Max's wall fell. Her eyes widened and she stepped back so Fang could come in her window. "You were _here_?"

He jumped into her room. When he landed, he shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded down at her, still waiting for an answer to his question.

"I waited," she whispered, not looking at him.

"I got…held up. When I got here, your window was closed and you weren't in your room. I waited for you to come back, but when the sun -"

"You waited until _morning_?" Max choked. He could see her kicking herself. Now he was…worried.

"Where were _you _last night?" he asked cautiously.

"How did you get 'held up'?" Max demanded, still avoiding his question.

Fang eyed her. She was in a pair of cotton pajamas. Her eyes were tired and her face was contorted in anger and hurt.

He just wanted her to answer his question!

Fang sighed.

"I realized something," he said lightly.

"What? That we are playing with fire here? That we screwed everything up _massively _two nights ago? That we shouldn't be doing this? That we should stop? That, somewhere, deep down, neither of us _want _to stop? Hell, I don't think I could even if I wanted to. What did you realize, Fang? That we _need _this? That we need to be together so much that it makes me sick when you don't show?" she took a deep breath, looking across her bedroom. "Someone finally caught on, huh?"

Fang gritted his teeth. "I knew all that when this started. You think I didn't know how this would turn out?"

"Then _why _did you do it?" Max demanded. She appeared to be having a hard time keeping her voice down, or maybe she just didn't care. "Why did you do that to us? To _me_?"

"Because I had to!" Fang said. He'd had to. Right? It was his job. Or, it had been his job. When he'd been her best friend. When he'd been her boyfriend. It had been _his job_. And who was going to do it for him? No one.

He wouldn't allow it.

"No, you didn't!" Max cried. "You didn't _have _to! Why did you do it?"

"Because I wanted to!" he said. "I wanted to do it! And so did you! You made me stay!"

"Don't blame this on me. I wanted you to stay the night you left the flock. You didn't. What was different about that first night you snuck into my bedroom, Fang? That I hung onto you for dear life and begged you not to leave? That I was weak this time? Is that all? God, why would you _do _that to me?"

Fang stared at her. How was he supposed to make her understand? How was he supposed to fix this?

"I may've been having trouble sleeping, fine. But it never even occurred to me that we could have these little rendezvous in my bedroom until you showed up. You opened that door, gave me that opportunity, and then you ripped it all away. Again."

She was talking with a normal pitch, now. Fang wondered how she would respond to a shush. Probably not well. He just didn't want the others -

The doorknob jiggled. "Max?"

It was Nudge.

Just perfect.

"See what you did?" Fang demanded.

"They all know," Max muttered at him. "Go to sleep, Nudge!"

"They _all _know?" Fang said loudly. He was _pissed_. How had they all found out? "What the fuck, Max?"

Max just stared at him blankly.

"If you don't open the door I'm getting Iggy," Nudge said nervously. Probably getting anxious at hearing Fang cursing and Max yelling. Fang just wanted to break something.

Fang pushed his hands through his hair. "Nudge, _go to bed_."

Nudge didn't respond to his stern voice. Instead, he heard her footsteps move away. Max and Fang stood in silence until they heard Iggy.

"Max? Open the door."

Fang looked down at her. She'd moved to sit on the foot of her bed, her head rested in her hands dejectedly. "How did they all find out?" Fang asked.

"How did they find out?" Max mumbled miserably. She turned her face up to look at him. "Hmm. Well, I woke up to a mouth kissing my _shoulder _and my _neck _and my _cheek _and so I said, 'Fang, you need to leave' to _Dylan_. You can imagine he didn't take it so well. Then he and I fought all morning, in front of the others, and it really just all came out then."

Fang kind of couldn't believe it. She'd tried to replace him with Dylan? Just like that, she'd been able to switch? As if he and Dylan were interchangeable? As if they were the _same_?

"You slept with Dylan?"

Max looked at him incredulously. She probably couldn't believe that was all he'd taken from her confession.

"Get out," Max whispered, looking at the floor.

He just stared at her. Iggy was jiggling the door knob, probably trying to unlock it. Fang just wanted to hit something. Could they never have any privacy? Did it sound like anyone was dying? Jesus. They could handle a fucking verbal argument.

Did they think he was going to hurt her or something? What, was he a monster?

Max looked up, her eyes and voice void of emotion. "Get out of my room."

**A/N: **Max did not **_**sleep **_**with Dylan. She just slept with Dylan, like, in his bed. Fang doesn't think they had sex, she doesn't think he thinks that. Just to clarify. **


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Eek! One more chapter after this, guys. I am so psyched about all the positive feedback, by the way! Thanks so much. **

**Read on!**

MAX

Max shouldn't have been surprised that Fang was there, but she was. She was surprised that he was sitting in the tree outside her window, with his eyes closed and his arms crossed. She was surprised that he had come back, even after she'd fought with him and slept in Dylan's room and pretty much ruined everything they had left.

She shouldn't have been surprised, but she was.

She laid in bed for a while, trying to pretend she was asleep. She watched Fang out of one eye, waited for him to try to come in or to just get up and leave. She wasn't sure what to expect him to do, honestly.

After an hour, she got up. She slowly walked over to the window and pushed it open. She leaned her head out and her hair was automatically swept up my the wind.

"What are you doing here?" she said. It was extremely windy that night, and really cold, but Fang didn't look uncomfortable. He opened his eyes when she asked that.

"You gonna let me talk this time?"

Max frowned at him.

"Don't give me that look," Fang said. "You didn't even let me explain last night."

"I didn't think there was much explaining for you to do," Max mumbled. She stepped back. "Are you coming in?"

Fang sighed and jumped in Max's window, landing skillfully on his feet. Max, wanting to avoid eye contact for as long as possible, pushed past him and closed the window. Then she went over to her bed and sat down, pulling the covers up around her.

"I told you last night that I realized something," Fang said, sitting carefully on the end of her bed.

"Yeah," Max mumbled. She was just waiting for him to say it. _It was right for me to leave, I shouldn't have come back, just forget this ever happened…_

She didn't want to hear it. Dylan wasn't talking to her, the others were afraid to bring it up, and now Fang was just going to break her heart again.

She didn't know how much more she could take.

"I thought leaving was the best idea. Breaking off, making two flocks. I thought it was best."

Max sat across from him, hugging one of her pillows. She felt numb. Why was this happening to them? She had to wonder, if she hadn't kissed him, would they still be in this position right now? Would he be telling her why they couldn't be together, would he be telling her why he couldn't be around her anymore?

"When Angel…" he trailed off. They both didn't want to talk about it. Hell, Max _couldn't_. But Fang looked like he needed to. Max watched him warily as he worked through it in his head.

"When Angel died, I started wondering if I was really helping that much by staying away," he said softly.

_You weren't helping at all_, Max thought. _You made it worse by leaving, you idiot_.

"Then I decided I could check on you, you know? I could…make sure you were okay. I could help."

Max still didn't say anything. She was aware of everything in her bedroom at that moment, aware of every movement Fang made and every breath he took. Could this really be headed where Max thought it was headed?

"I did that for a while. Sat in that tree, and made sure you were okay." Fang scratched his head. "Then, one night, you had a nightmare. So I came in. I laid down with you."

Max just wanted to yell at him to get to it already. She knew what they'd done. She already knew the story. She'd lived it. Was he _trying _to make this more painful for her?

"Then it wasn't just one night, it was every night. Then Maya knew, then Ig, then everyone. And we kissed. And…I realized that the only reason we would put ourselves through this shit is because we need to do it. We want to. We can't just turn off our feelings. We can't ignore them."

Max stared at him.

"Leaving wrecked us both. Leaving…was a mistake."

"That's what you realized?" Max choked out finally. Took him fucking long enough.

"Kind of," he said. "Max, I just…we need to be together. You and I need it. We've always needed it. I don't know why I thought it would be better to split up…"

"So, you're telling me that you realized after we kissed that you were a dumbass for leaving?" Max asked, still in disbelief. Like, he should've already _known _that!

"I love you, okay?"

_Okay_? Max stared at him. He loved her. After everything, after Dylan, after all their fights and all the heartbreak…

"I was late the night after our kiss because I realized that I was wrong. And I told my group that it would be better if we all went separate ways. So, I help Star and Kate get to a hotel. Ratchet took off on his own. Holden hopped on a bus back home. And Maya…disappeared."

"You-"

"And I came here, and I was going to tell you, but you-"

"Fang," she breathed.

Fang looked at her. "I'm tired of being mad. And I'm tired of pretending that I'm okay with how things ended, because I'm not. I am willing to try to make it up to you. But you need to tell me if you want to be with me, or with Dylan." He took a deep breath. "We'll decide from there."

Him or Dylan?

Fang, the man who wrecked her heart a few times, drove her fucking insane, and made everything about life a million times more complicated, or Dylan, who only wanted to please her, would love her no matter what, and wasn't afraid to give up everything for her.

Fang or Dylan.

Max threw her pillow to the side and crawled forward into Fang's arms. He wrapped them around her immediately, holding her tight against him. She felt so small compared to him. So tiny. She pulled his mouth down to hers and kissed him, hard. This time, she remembered kissing him. She remembering making the first move, taking that leap of faith.

She wasn't afraid at all.

They'd been best friends their whole lives. They'd been stupid to think that splitting up would ever work. They would always, always be brought back together, no matter what. It was just how Max and Fang worked.

Max kissed him and she didn't even think twice about it.

Tonight, Fang stayed.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Here it is! **

**I am so happy this story was a success - so happy that you guys **_**read **_**it and **_**liked **_**it and **_**understood **_**what I was trying to do with it. I really want to thank you guys for reviewing and telling me what you liked/disliked. **

**I'm sad it's over… But I am very, very glad with how it turned out. This chapter, since it's the epilogue, is kind of in an omniscient point of view - meaning it has an insight into both Max and Fang's minds. Kind of symbolic, ya know? But, I'm not going to explain it all out. Just read. (: **

_Epilogue_

Fang groaned. Something…something hard…was pushing into his gut…

"Max," he grunted, trying to resituate their position, "move your elbow."

She, in turn, shoved him. "Shut the blinds. It's fucking bright."

Fang turned his head toward the window and immediately squinted. The sun was up, high in the sky already, and it _was _bright.

Still…

He didn't feel like getting up.

"No," he grumbled. To solve her problem with the light, he pulled her cotton comforter up over her head. "There. Problem solved."

Max groaned. She reached up out from under the blanket and grabbed his head by his hair, yanking him down under the comforter as well. He sighed, wrapping his arms around her thin waist and holding her close. Max yawned, pressing her head into his chest. Fang kissed her head.

Then, when she actually opened her eyes and looked at his face, she seemed to realize something. Perhaps that Fang was in her bed and it was bright outside. That wasn't right…

She sat up, throwing the covers down and causing Fang to drop his arms from around her.

"The sun is up," she stated, dumbfounded.

Fang rolled onto his back, pulling her pillow under his head. He did _not _like sharing a pillow. "Yeah."

She looked at him, her mouth opening to say something. Then she shut it. She pushed her hair back, flipping it haphazardly over her shoulder. "What time is it?" she finally asked.

"Ten or eleven," Fang said, glancing toward the window. He was only guessing, by the position of the sun.

Max looked even more unsettled at that news. "Eleven? Where are the others? Why hasn't anyone woken me yet?"

"Well…"

"Well what?" she asked warily.

Fang smirked at her, which seemed to kind of surprise her. He grabbed her hand and she laid down next to him, sighing.

"Nudge came in earlier," he mumbled, stroking one of her wings. "At eight."

Nudge had walked into Max's bedroom that morning, and been completely shocked to see Fang there. He had smiled at her, a real smile, and she had grinned back.

"Are you here to stay?" she'd whispered tentatively.

Fang had nodded.

Nudge had grinned again, backing slowly out of Max's room. No one else had bothered them since.

Max was quiet. Fang thought that this was the most peaceful he'd ever seen her.

"So…what do we do now?" Her voice was soft and genuinely curious.

He closed his eyes.

"You stayed the night," Max murmured, turning her face toward his.

"I did."

"I guess…we made up last night," Max continued.

"I guess we did."

Max stared at him. There was a lot Fang felt he still needed to say. A lot of talking they still needed to do. A _lot _of explaining to the others.

Fang remembered last night, waking up at four or five in the morning. He'd woken Max and she'd been sleepy and half-unconscious. He'd asked her if he should go. She'd told him softly, "No, stay."

So he had. Stayed. The whole night.

Now it was morning.

Completely different territory.

Every night for weeks he'd been sneaking into her bedroom, laying with her, then leaving.

But last night, he stayed.

It was incredible how much that had changed everything. The night before, in Fang's mind, was kind of a blur. He remembered Max kissing him, crying as she did so - but not because she was sad. No. Because she was happy. He remembered holding her for a long time, kissing her again and again, hearing her say she loved him.

Eventually they'd fallen asleep, like always. Eventually, he'd woken up and thought about leaving. But this time, instead of actually getting up and slipping out Max's window, Fang had rolled away from the window, curled himself around her, and fallen back asleep.

"I'm…glad you stayed," Max said softly.

"Me too," Fang breathed against her neck.

"I love you," Max continued. He could hear the emotions in her voice - the fear, at admitting it to him; the nerves, at anticipating his reaction; the compassion, at how much she meant it.

"You too," Fang whispered.

He kissed her then, gently. It slowly built to more than that. Instead of a gentle, loving kiss, it became a challenge for Max to win against Fang. She rolled over on top of him but did let him take control of the kiss - he was better at it, anyways, and the things he could manage with that tongue of his…Jesus. She pressed herself completely against him, letting her mouth mold to his in a way that she'd never felt before, with anyone else. Sure, she'd only ever kissed two other boys in her whole life, but something about kissing Fang…

Max just _knew _that no other man would ever stand a chance. Fang was just…incredible.

Max pulled away, looking at him for a moment. Then she stood up and opened her bedroom door - which she had not locked the night before. She turned to look back at him, laying in her bed. Fang took a moment to look her over. Her long, tan legs with their fair share of scars. Her pajama shorts and Nike t-shirt. Her long blonde hair, framing her face.

Her face. A face that, weeks ago, had looked pained and lost and depressed. A face that had expressed sorrow. And fear. And vulnerability.

Today, that face was bright. That face was smiling. She cocked her head to the side, motioning for him to get up. Get up and face the day. Face the others.

Face the future, together.

"Come with me."

And so it began.

**A/N: What'd you think? **


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